


Season 1 Episode 5 - Coquilles

by PaleGlimmer



Series: Hannibal Smut Companion [5]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Episode Related, Hand Jobs, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Paddling, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Season 1, very mild BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 14:37:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18719077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaleGlimmer/pseuds/PaleGlimmer
Summary: Will goes to Hannibal very early in the morning, after suffering episodes of sleepwalking. He's worried for his mental health. Hannibal has his opinions about it. Sexual shenanigans ensue.





	Season 1 Episode 5 - Coquilles

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my project Hannibal Smut Companion: a little piece of smut set in/around each episode. Every TV episode resets events/characters.
> 
> Kudos and comments are all very welcome. 🖤

Hannibal’s kitchen is lit up by the pale light of the early morning, entering from the many windows of the room. Hannibal is wearing his gray cashmere robe over a white pajama, his face still soft from sleep. He’s preparing coffee for two. An unexpected guest eager to confide in him as soon as possible has just arrived: Will stands nearby, his jacket still on, a bashful expression on his face.

“Although I may be, is it safe to assume you’re not sleepwalking now?” A tentative smile lingers on Hannibal’s lips. 

Will is self-conscious, averting his eyes to the ground. “I’m sorry, it’s so early.” He needed to be around a friendly face, in spite of the early hours - he doesn’t need to say it, Hannibal knows by now that their relationship is becoming more and more important to the well-being of Will Graham.

“Never apologize for coming to me. Office hours are for patients. My kitchen is always open to friends.” 

Hannibal hands Will the first cup from the vacuum coffee maker after having added a spoonful of sugar, the roasted smell of Arabica now filling up the room. Will enjoys Hannibal’s coffee: the coffee machine looks more like a pretentious art installation than something practical, but the final result is delicious - something that he would never get for himself, but can accept from his hedonistic friend.

“Onset of sleepwalking in adulthood is less common than in children.” Hannibal informs Will quietly.

“Could it be a seizure?” Will is eager to evaluate all possibilities. There’s something obviously wrong with him, and he’d rather find out before it gets too bad. Finding yourself miles away from home, in the middle of the night, practically naked, sounds bad enough already, to him. What’s going to happen next? Is he going to black out in class? While holding a gun against a criminal?

“I’d argue good old-fashioned post traumatic stress. Jack Crawford has gotten your hands very dirty.” 

“Wasn’t forced back into the field.” Will somehow feels loyalty toward Crawford: the man trusts him enough, doesn’t he? Leaning against Crawford’s trust, Will can push back his own doubts. Though Crawford’s trust is not unconditional. Crawford needs Graham but doesn’t really trust him, not entirely, to be honest.

“I wouldn’t say forced. Manipulated would be the word I’d choose.” In spite of their collaboration, Hannibal doesn’t seem to have the highest opinion of Crawford, at least for his treatment of Will Graham.

“I can handle it.” Will needs to convince himself more than anyone else.

”Somewhere between denying horrible events and calling them out lies the truth of psychological trauma.”

”So I can’t handle it?” Maybe it’s really too early in the morning for a philosophical conversation with Doctor Hannibal Lecter. And one coffee may not be enough.

“Your experience may have overwhelmed ordinary functions that give you a sense of control.” 

“If my body is walking around without my permission, you’d say that’s a loss of control?” 

“Wouldn’t you? Sleepwalkers demonstrate a difficulty handling aggression. Are you experiencing difficulty with aggressive feelings?”

“Who doesn’t, Hannibal?” Will scoffs, while walking mindlessly in the kitchen, running one hand over the clean surface.

“All those who do not spend the night sleepwalking, I’d wager. Of course most don’t have to deal with the incredible levels of violence and aggression that you experience in your job, with the added difficulty of your extreme empathy. Maybe you should turn what you consider your weakness into your strength.”

“That sounds so easy, Hannibal, why haven’t we thought about it any sooner?” Will crunches his face as he usually does when the sarcasm reaches danger levels. “How would I do that, anyway?”

“Let your mind be free to enjoy what the aggressor feels. In a safe environment, for a limited time, in an harmless manner: keep morals and shame at bay. Be naughty, for a little while, and enjoy it…” 

Certainly the smile Hannibal has on his face, looking at Will and moving closer to him, may be described as naughty.

Will shrugs. “I don’t see what the safe environment could be.”

Hannibal reaches Will. With the light touch of his hands on Will’s shoulders, he gently turns Agent Graham’s body toward the kitchen counter, taking both of his hands and putting them palm down on the flat surface, then moves away from Will’s view. Will is puzzled but lets Hannibal handle him, anyway. 

“Hannibal, I don’t understand, what is that…”

Something stiff hits Will’s ass sharply - a wooden spoon, he wonders? It makes a flat, muted sound against Will’s slacks. Will is so surprised his jaw falls slack in disbelief. He feels a wave of warmth releasing from the point of impact: some of it turns his face flush, some goes straight to his groin, suddenly making his cock half hard.

Hannibal doesn’t speak, Will doesn’t move. Silence lingers in the room, though Will is afraid that his heart may be so loud it could be heard from a distance. Will’s mind is wildly spinning between wanting to scold Hannibal for such a silly game and wanting the game to continue a bit longer, for the sake of his very eager dick at least. Maybe Hannibal will hit him again? Harder? Will swallows, hopeful, his eyes unfocused, his mind lost in the unexpected pleasure.

Without saying a word, Hannibal hits him again. A little harder. Will exhales, this is not really painful, kind of a dull feeling thanks to the fabric covering his ass. He’s surprised by the sudden realization that being at Hannibal’s mercy is so deeply arousing. He keeps still, very still.

“I understand that this treatment is working for you, Agent Graham?”

Hannibal’s voice is a bit husky now. And what’s with using his title? Will tries to control his voice, to not betray his confused excitement, but he’s not entirely successful. Words come out of him a little chocked.

“It may be… Doctor Lecter.”

Apparently, this morning Will’s cock is particularly sensitive to unusual formality, too: another twitch confirms this.

“Let’s make sure that we perform it at the best of our ability, then.” 

Hannibal speaks and then appears beside Will, taking him by the waist with gentle but firm hands and pulling him a step away from the counter. Now Will has to recline his chest forward and arch his back to keep his hands on the surface - presenting his ass shamelessly to somebody standing behind him. At this point Will expects the hits to begin again, instead Hannibal, from behind him, undoes his belt and then his pants. Hannibal slowly pulls down Will’s slacks to his knees. Then, taking care not to touch with his hands the now fully swollen cock, he pulls down also Will’s underwear. Will stops breathing, blood roaring in his ears, excitement, shame and panic rising in unruly waves inside him. He could end this silly, dirty game, now and there. He should. But he doesn’t.

Hannibal doesn’t back away immediately: he puts his warm hands back on Will’s trim waist, stroking his sides with his finger, pressing in with his thumbs, humming in praise of Will’s athletic torso. Will feels the soft material of Hannibal’s robe dragging against his naked cheeks… and Hannibal’s unmistakable, obscene hard-on beneath it. His mouth goes dry and his breathing speeds up in fretful anticipation. His own excitement and Hannibal’s mingle in his mind, in slow swirls of blood red and ink black. 

Hannibal steps back and suddenly another hit strikes Will’s exposed ass. This time, without the protection of the fabric, the hit stings on his naked skin, causing Will to exhale a breathy moan.

Hannibal hits again. Harder. Will cannot fully stifle a whimper, his body swinging between pain and arousal. The head of his stiff cock shimmers with precome.

Hannibal strikes his third, fourth and fifth hit on Will’s naked skin in rapid succession. Dry, forceful hits, leaving the soft skin on Will’s ass all lined in red, the stinging burn of pain and utter humiliation radiating all over his body. Will’s legs now tremble, he leans his sweaty forehead on the flat, fresh surface of the counter, between his palms. There is only one thing he can think about now: he wants to come. He needs to. He needs an orgasm, to drain away tension, fear, shame, violence, all that has been filling him during these dark times, now overflowing well over the brim. 

Will’s voice is shaky and weak. “Do I have to beg, Doctor Lecter?”

“That depends, Agent Graham.” 

“Please,” Will sighs, his eyes are shut tight, lashes trembling. “Please,” he whispers again after getting no answer, a crack in his voice, missing the courage to ask for what he desperately needs.

Of course Hannibal understands. 

“This was a very quick undoing, Agent Graham. Hopefully this lesson will teach you to deal with your own desires and needs less stubbornly. Denial is not the healthy way… ” Hannibal’s words may sound like a reproach but there’s a distinct vein of amusement in his voice. “What are you begging for, anyway?”

Will moves one hand from the flat surface but Hannibal, suddenly by his side, pushes it back on the counter with a sharp slap. 

“Absolutely not, Agent Graham!” Hannibal is adamant. Will keeps both hands on the surface.

“Oh Hannibal, come on, you cannot do this to me and then send me away without even letting me… you know… oh, for fuck’s sake!” 

“Language, Agent Graham.”

The only sound in the room is Will’s strained breathing - who is quickly adding rage as one of the emotions roaming inside his tense and half exposed body. Then Hannibal is behind him, Will feels the softness of the robe against his back. One of Hannibal’s hands holds him across his chest, the other gently grabs Will’s cock and starts stroking its length in a maddening slow rhythm. Will gives a soft shriek in surprise, then closes his eyes and pushes his body back against Hannibal’s, resting the back of his head on the doctor’s shoulder. The hand is very slick - the devil must have used something laying around in the kitchen - squeezing him with just the right strength, a light twist of the wrist, the thumb caressing the glans. Over and over. Will tries valiantly to avoid moans and whimpers while lost in the pleasure, bites his bottom lips almost drawing blood, and soon, too soon, everything is over: Will comes in Hannibal’s hand, his body releasing all the accumulated worries and tension in an orgasm that makes him gasp, leaving him temporarily blind and breathless. 

Will’s eyes are still closed, when he feels Hannibal’s hands wrapping him up tight in something soft and warm, directing him to sit his shaking body on one of the tall kitchen stools. Still hugging Will close to his chest while shrouded in his robe, Hannibal puts a glass of cold water to Will’s parched lips and has him drink some. 

While stroking his curls, Hannibal whispers in Will’s ear what a good boy he’s been. Will smiles, stretches a little and open his eyes, feeling more at ease in his own body than he has been in a long time.

“Hannibal,” Will’s voice is low and soft. “This therapy of yours… it might hold some value…” The words end in a low chuckle.

Hannibal smiles. And holds Will close for a little longer. 


End file.
